


Saviours Of The Universe: A Machine's World

by HgMercury39



Series: Saviours Of The Universe [1]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Gen, Minor Character Death, superhero au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HgMercury39/pseuds/HgMercury39
Summary: World-famous musicians in public, superheroes in private - and now, the members of the band Queen must defend the world from a terrifying threat. This is the first of two planned story arcs.
Relationships: John Deacon & Brian May & Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor
Series: Saviours Of The Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885108
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	1. Prologue: This Neverending Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, it's Mercury! Hope you enjoy, and please let me know if you did. This is an ongoing story and I'm a slow writer, so please be patient. The weird chapter numbering is because I haven't found a way to use a prologue, so if there is a way help would be appreciated.
> 
> Enjoying the story? Come talk about it, my other works, and Queen in general at https://discord.gg/Vc7Bt7X!

The world knew them as "Queen". The greatest band in existence, and only getting bigger. People worldwide recognised their names and faces at a glance.

Freddie Mercury, the charismatic lead singer who had emigrated from Zanzibar to reach unforeseen heights of renown.

Brian May, the brilliant guitarist juggling a career in astrophysics with international music fame.

Roger Taylor, the blond drummer who cultivated his wild persona but was hardly as air-headed as he liked to pretend.

And, last but far from least, bassist John Deacon. The youngest and at first glance the quietest of the group, but with a charm and power that overwhelmed on closer acquaintance.

All this fame was definitely making the secret identity thing trickier.

Yes, the four were what would probably be considered superheroes. Through a combination of luck, talent, and natural gifts, they each had some ability or power which they used for the good of the world against people with similar gifts but less altruistic methods of using them. This had started small, but as their fame grew and their income with it, it had developed into a full-blown operation with the highest technology and almost nothing outside the realm of possibility.

Freddie, under the name Fahrenheit, was perhaps the most powerful of the group with the abilities to fly, summon fire, and travel at phenomenal speeds. His distinctive uniform was a simple black and white checked leotard, coupled with a short, bright yellow cape.

Brian, codenamed Zodiac, was telekinetic - able to move objects and people with the power of his mind. John had tapped into this ability to create his signature weapon, an elegantly designed device that wrapped around his hand and was keyed to his brainwaves to deliver energy bursts resembling light rays (except, as Brian would always explain, it was only a resemblance because light doesn't work that way) as well as other settings that could be useful in a difficult situation. His uniform was a strong but surprisingly elegant armour-like suit in red, black, and silver, patterned after his equally distinctive guitar.

Roger had chosen the name Carman, but the others could never say the... _unusual_ name with a straight face and so it was rarely used in practice. The only one of the group who had not been born with powers, he hadn't wanted to be left out of the fun and eventually John had figured out a way to augment his strength with cybernetic implants in addition to the ordinary-looking sunglasses which greatly improved his vision, going far beyond just correcting nearsightedness.

John's powers were healing and invisibility; not the most flashy, perhaps, but definitely useful. He could heal wounds and some illnesses through physical contact, although too serious an injury would leave him weakened or even transfer the wound to him. Needless to say, it wasn't very productive in combat - for that, he used a pair of daggers usually kept sheathed at his belt. His uniform was a plain sky-blue shirt and leggings, with a slightly ornate belt holding his daggers. He also served as the team's engineer and mechanic, having created most of their technology and being responsible for its maintenance.

Their headquarters were in an extremely elaborate limousine. Technically owned by Roger, John had equipped it with a stunning array of enhancements ranging from flight through autopilot and even invisibility. Having a mobile base was definitely useful, if sometimes a little cramped.  
The group were now in their sixth year together, and while they'd definitely had their share of adventures they could not yet lay claim to the grandiose title of saving the world. However, that was beginning to change.

People were being attacked by giant, humanoid robots that never spoke and seemed only to be indulging in wanton destruction. The only clue: a symbol, rather like a hallmark, on the back of each robot's neck with the single word:

"Frank".


	2. Chapter 1: Holding The World Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff happens! Exposition is made! Banter!

_1976_

* * *

Freddie waited outside his house in London, glancing slightly nervously at his watch. Time was short, and the others should have been there twenty minutes previously. Finally, an ordinary-looking if rather oversized limousine with tinted windows pulled up by the gate and he stepped in with a quick, well-practiced motion.

"You're late."

The vehicle's inside looked more like a small apartment than a car or even a caravan, with four bolted-down chairs and a compact table forming the centrepiece, as well as a convenient place for eating, talking, or, as John was doing, fiddling intently with what appeared to be a dismantled sandwich toaster.

Roger looked up from the science-fiction magazine he was reading. "Good morning to you too. I'm really awfully sorry, but John thought we were being followed and I couldn't afford to take risks. In fact, I'm positively certain that someone's watching Brian's house - which is why we changed the plans and came to you first in the hopes that whoever it was wouldn't stick around."

"They're watching Brian's _house_?" Freddie became interested - or perhaps 'worried' would be a better description. "Then someone out there knows or at least suspects his true identity. And probably not someone friendly to us. If they know about him, there's a good chance they'll soon find out about the rest of us... How could something like this have happened without our knowing?"

Roger shrugged. "We're not exactly obscure figures. I mean our other selves, not.. Well, you know what I mean. We're under constant public scrutiny, and it stands to reason that a sufficiently intelligent and well-informed person could make the connection. Not that I like it, mind you, but there was always a high probability of this happening someday. I was hoping, however, that it would be one of the good guys..."

"Could our families be in danger?" John cut in suddenly. "If someone hostile does know who we are, they might try to use them for blackmail-" He redoubled his efforts with the toaster, seemingly more out of nervousness than genuine work.

Freddie understood John's concern; the kindhearted bassist was very much in love with the woman he had married somewhat over a year previously, and only a few months ago had been overjoyed at the birth of his son. Freddie himself had been in a steady relationship for several years by now, although his relations with the charming Mary had becomes rather strained lately - not only because he insisted on concealing his other life from her.

"I don't know. There might not even be any basis for these worries, but I guess it's a possibility. Best-case scenario, we're misinterpreting the evidence and there's no real danger. Worst-case... Well, we'll deal with that if it happens."

John still looked worried, but didn't answer. Freddie searched for a way to distract him from the troubling thought, and tried to sound as casual as possible in his next remark.

"So, what are you working on? A new superweapon again?"

"Sadly, no. _Someone_ thought it was a good idea to put marshmallows in the sandwich toaster, so now I have to fix it."

"I just wanted to see what would happen!" Roger protested.

"And now you know, and I can't make cheese toast and have to waste a few hours fixing this thing. Happy?"

"It's just a sandwich toaster, for heaven's sake! You'd think I'd put marshmallows in Brian's hand device or something!"

"Well, knowing you, you probably would have."

"That's just slander!"

Freddie couldn't help smiling; John arguing with Roger was a rare thing and had to be cherished, as this was usually Brian's job. Still, they did have more important stuff to worry about at the moment. It was probably about time for an intervention.

"Deacy, with all due respect, it's a sandwich toaster. Roger, maybe you could buy a new one? It'd only be fair under the circumstances, and we do have to go and pick up Brian."

"Fine." Roger agreed reluctantly, and set the autopilot for Brian's house.

* * *

The journey wasn't too long, thanks to the car's intricate modifications. The car stopped outside Brian's house.

Almost the moment they were safely stopped, the door opened without any of them having touched it or the button that would automatically open it. Brian dashed inside, and the door closed behind him as he took a seat.

"Show-off," Roger muttered.

"I had to act quickly, before the guy casing my house came back!" Brian defended himself. "It's lucky you arrived when you did. They're definitely on to me at least, and it worries me that we still have no idea who 'they' are. Unless any leads came up since yesterday?"

"Nothing." John said dully. "Another attack was reported in Westminster, but it was over before we could get there. Today's more of a council than a mission, I think."

"Right." Brian looked over the report. "No casualties this time, at least. Panic must be spreading, though... That could be their goal,to make people so scared they won't resist whatever the final plan is... I just wish we knew what or who we were up against, and what they wanted. It feels like they know everything, and we're left to guess their next move... What I'm trying to say is, they're winning. And we can't do anything about it, because we don't know what needs to be done. Am I correct in saying that's where we stand at the moment?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Freddie confirmed. "As for the name-"

"It's reasonable to assume that it's the name of whoever's causing this," John suggested, "unless, of course, it's some kind of red herring. Maybe we should look for people named Frank who'd have a motive and resources to do something like this? That'd still potentially be a pretty big list, but we have to start somewhere."

"Start?" Roger asked. "What worries me is how we finish it. We could know every single detail about the enemy and it won't help if we don't have a way to fight him, will it?"

Freddie chimed in. "You assume it's a him?"

"Yes, well, I don't know that many women named Frank."

"But are you sure that your experience includes enough women to draw that conclusion?"

"Fred..." Brian said gently, "I think I can safely say that Roger's experience includes plenty of women. To say the least."

"Why, thank you! That was a compliment, right?" Roger was quick to reply, ignoring the guitarist's eye roll.

John laughed involuntarily, knowing the banter between them was intentional as such conversations had been taking place since he'd joined the band - actually, since before he'd joined. The group's friendly, easygoing atmosphere definitely made the dangers they constantly faced outside of their ordinary life seem a great deal less frightening; all four trusted and relied on each other completely, despite the constant arguments and problems that were inevitable in a group of such strong and different personalities.

While Roger's strong opinions were often brought into conflict with Brian's relentless perfectionism and even the conflict-averse John had had his share of fights, in battle as in music the end result was always harmonious, balancing their differences and making full use of every single talent they had.

This was good, because the coming events were going to require every single talent they had and more.

* * *

Although the danger and adventure of the past six years had been more than any of them had imagined facing, let alone surviving, the storm now brewing was thirty-nine times beyond that. Before long they would be wondering not how to fight, but how to keep themselves alive long enough to have a chance at fighting.

For the time, however, they ended the council without making much progress and proceeded to the recording studio - after all, they were a band, and one with an album in the works.


	3. Chapter 2: And Soon We Had The Record Of The Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My usual practice of comic relief before dark stuff happens - although I guess this one is more dark from the start than FtS. Fight scene, please try to excuse my being terrible at fight scenes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to be roughly historically accurate but I’m not an obsessive researcher. If you spot something off, feel free to a: point it out to me to increase my knowledge, and b: don’t worry too much. It’s for the plot.
> 
> I know a lot of the Saviours’ technology is anachronistic for 1976 (although car phones are not - which is why someone not privy to their existence knows that Roger has one.) It’s necessary for plot things again, so in-universe explanation is that John’s just that brilliant.

"So, can someone please explain to me what "lonely as a whisper on a star chase" means? Anyone?"

Brian smirked evilly. "Sure, Rog. But I'm still waiting on an explanation of that whole "when my hand's on your grease-gun" bit from our last album. Trade sound reasonable?"

"It's a metaphor, Brian, and you know it!"

"A metaphor for...?" John put in slyly. Roger threw up his hands in defeat.

"Look, if I'm going to be singing it I want to know what it means, okay? Is that unreasonable?"

"Well..." Brian answered slowly. "I could say no, but where's the fun in that?"

"Are you _trying_ to annoy me?"

"See my previous answer."

"And I thought I was supposed to be the impossible one!"

"Children, please." Freddie entered the conversation. "We could all murder each other, but then who would be left to record this album?"

"Oh, that's actually an interesting idea," Roger said. "An album recorded by ghosts. Wait, did you just call us children?"

"I'm the oldest," Freddie reminded him. "I have a right to do that."

John found himself giggling as he tried to get the others' attention back to the actual recording part.

"As amusing as this is, we have a deadline to meet. How about we transform the banter energy into music energy?"

"That's... not how energy conversion works," Brian frowned.

"I was speaking metaph- oh, nevermind. Freddie, if they're not cooperating how about we go and work on that thing I wanted to do with You And I?"

"Fine by me," Freddie shrugged, heading towards a somewhat quieter corner of the studio. John followed him, leaving the others to work out their differences without interference.

"So, what do you think of this?" John played a quick, jaunty riff.

"Well, you wrote it."

"I thought you were going to help..." John sighed.

"I am helping. I'm saying that you wrote it, and as far as I can see it's brilliant."

"Thanks, then. Now, is there anything else we can get done while the two hysterical Queens over there sort out their differences and hopefully don't kill each other?"

Freddie ran through a mental checklist.

"Not that I can think of right now. Maybe we should just... wait for things to settle down? After all, we have a concert coming up, and too much pressure at once is rarely a good thing."

"Concert- Oh, right. I'd forgotten, somehow."

On September 18, 1976, Queen was scheduled to play a free concert at Hyde Park. While they had some misgivings about the venue, a live concert after so much time spent in the studio was definitely something to be anticipated.

However, since the morning revelations John's mind had understandably been on other things. While there had obviously always been risk involved in their other business, overall the danger had never actually seemed all that great. Now, that didn't seem nearly as certain.

With Brian's identity revealed and his family possibly in danger, it was likely only a matter of time before the mysterious 'Frank' made the connection to the others. John was, not unexpectedly, scared. Scared that something would happen to his friends, or to his family, or to any number of innocents who could and perhaps already had become caught up in... In what? That was also a concern. Despite their new enemy's dramatic methods and clearly inexhaustible funding, Brian had been right to point out that they knew absolutely nothing about his goals or motives.

Wreaking havoc by means of giant robots might have made a good action film, but the real world hardly worked like that. Unless they were dealing with a madman, but it would be highly unlikely for a madman to achieve that kind of power. Or for a man as deranged as such a course of action would suggest to be logical enough to learn the true identity of someone at least as intelligent as he was.

"John? Deacy? You all right?" Freddie's voice interrupted his thought processes.

"Sorry. I was... distracted. Where were we?"

"The concert," Freddie prompted.

"Yes. Of course. We're planning Bo-Rhap for the opener, right? Or was it Ogre Battle?"  
"I think we should do Bo-Rhap first and Ogre Battle second, unless you disagree. Start with something familiar, then call back to the earlier album..."

The discussion was interrupted by Roger's hurried entrance.

"There's an attack in Reading!"

Within seconds, both were racing towards the car. Roger and Brian joined them, and the four set course and prepared for battle in the practiced way of those who have done the same thing countless times in the past.

* * *

Brian readied his hand device and made sure it was working, examining the sleek metal and making minute adjustments with the same care and precision he used when tuning his guitar. Like the guitar, the device had come to be almost a part of him through long use and the many times it had saved the lives of him or his friends. Most of that was due to John's brilliance at engineering, but Brian had made some modifications in his spare time as well. While engineering was not his passion or career, he'd built his own guitar. He was hardly inexperienced. And, time and time again, that experience had paid off. Still, something bothered him. Something he couldn't put his finger on, but was absolutely terrified of.

John practiced combat motions with his daggers, although the rhythms were second nature to him after so many years. His determination and courage in battle were very different from his usual shy awkwardness, but to those who knew him hardly out of character - both attitudes somehow fitted perfectly into the different facets of his personality. On this occasion, however, he was more nervous than he showed. Aside from the fears of before, a feeling of unease plagued him about the events to come. Something, he felt certain, was going to go horribly wrong.

Freddie, as usual, was surprisingly nervous before battle. While he was not the team's leader or even the one who made most of their decisions, he often felt responsible for the success of their operations. And in this case, he too felt the strange foreboding about their current task. The thought that something was going to happen and that they would be powerless to prevent it until far too late... A trap? Or worse? The answer had to exist, but none suggested itself. Without noticing, he summoned a small flame and only just managed to prevent himself from setting fire to the table. The ability definitely had its drawbacks sometimes.

Roger loaded his gun and made the final checks, realising that his hands were shaking. There was no reason that he could think of; he was experienced and there was no reason to suggest the attack they were about to fend off was any different from those they had already dealt with. He wasn't afraid of fighting, especially not with such brave and trustworthy allies. He knew that each of them was prepared to die for him in a heartbeat, just as he was for them. Could that be it? The impulse struck him to turn back, to convince the others that it was too dangerous. But he couldn't think of a reason - intuition was hardly good enough - and logic told him that even if one or all of them was destined not to survive, the many lives in danger if they didn't go on far outweighed that chance. Logic... Roger had never really been one for logic. He determined to be as careful as possible, both on his own behalf and especially on the others'.

They stopped at the scene of the incident.

* * *

Even from a distance, the mayhem was obvious. The robots seemed to only be after property, but people scattered in terror before them. The car's arrival was greeted with sporadic cheers, and Brian found himself wondering how many of the people cheering had also, at some point in the past, reacted the same way to their other selves. They stepped out quickly and in unison, heading for the source of the disturbance.

Freddie zoomed through the sky, aiming fireballs at the robots' heads while being careful not to harm anything else - a fire in the crowded street was the last thing they needed.

Brian sent beams from his hand device towards them, telekinetically moving them to ensure they wouldn't fall onto houses or people. It was exhausting moving things of that size, but he was used to it.

John lured them away from the crowded areas, getting them to chase him and turning invisible before they could strike. He also helped with the wounded, although fortunately there were few.  
Roger was shooting quickly, reloading in less than a minute and returning to battle. The tide seemed to be turning fairly quickly, but they'd never encountered this many before. A shout from behind him made him turn abruptly, his elation quickly changing to horror.

Brian was struggling in the grasp of one of the robots, unable to use the hand device with his arms pinned to his sides. Freddie hovered nearby, unable to attack without risking hurting him. John was nowhere to be seen, but that wasn't necessarily cause to worry.

Roger was there in moments, sending one final volley towards his opponent before rushing to help his friend. He looked up, his sunglasses giving him all the visual information he could possibly need. He could take the robot down with a few well-aimed shots, but if it fell Brian could easily be seriously injured.

The thought came to him that this could be the meaning of his earlier intuition. He'd been perhaps too quick to dismiss it in the car, and if his best friend was to die as a result of that dismissal-

"No!" Roger's guilt and anger became a desperate shout. This wasn't going to happen. He ran at the robot, not entirely sure what he was hoping to accomplish but knowing there had to be something. Suddenly, it staggered back before he even reached it, a gash opening in the metal of its leg. John, he realised. While he'd been overwhelmed by his emotions, the others had already chosen a plan and acted on it. John continued to dart invisibly around the robot - at least, Roger assumed he was doing that, as he was invisible - and stab at its legs to take it down. Eventually, its control systems were damaged and its hand opened, dropping Brian towards a waiting Freddie who brought him safely to the ground. The fight was hardly over, but all four needed a moment to recover after the tense struggle.

Brian leant against a nearby wall, breathing heavily.

"Thanks. I thought I was done for back there."

"And you should have known better. Because if you really thought you could go and die while I had any say in it - well, I thought you were smart." Freddie answered lightly, but with a serious undertone.

Roger's concern was in a different place.

"I'm sorry." He wasn't used to the word, but it came naturally this time.

"For what?" Brian asked in surprise. "You couldn't have known it would happen, and you could hardly have prevented it."

 _That's where you're wrong_ , Roger thought, but left it as a thought. Instead, he went for a simpler topic.

"I froze. While you were in danger there and the others were busy figuring out what to do, I just stood there and panicked. I should know better by now, and if John hadn't known what to do you could have-"

"But I didn't," Brian reassured him. "You can't blame yourself for being scared, it's a perfectly natural reaction. And anyway, you'll learn something for next time - not that I want there to be a next time, of course. Don't beat yourself up over it."

"Because there are plenty of people out there to beat me up instead?" Roger ventured, and met with the expected eye-roll.

"I try to give you some serious encouragement, and you just ignore all my hard work and go for the joke?"

"Yes. Absolutely.

Brian sighed. "Remind me why I like you again?"

"Because I'm the funniest, coolest, and most humble person you know?"

"If you say so-" Brian began, but was interrupted by the car phone's urgent ringing.

* * *

They dashed back to it, Roger being the first to answer. A panicked, gasping female voice answered.

"Roger? Is- Is Brian with you? They're here- those things- attacking!"

Brian rushed to the phone. "Chrissie! Hang on-" But the connection had already dropped. Wild-eyed, he turned to Roger.

"We have to-"

"Already setting the course," Roger assured him. "I don't know how soon we'll get there, though. I'm sorry, I wish there was something..."

"It was a trap," John said quietly. "A distraction. You saw what was happening here - it wasn't a real attack, they just wanted to keep us busy so we wouldn't be able to get there-" He broke off at Brian's expression. "Sorry. I guess that's not helping."

"I never told her..." Brian grasped the chair's arm-rests, trying to steady his shaking hands. "She doesn't even know why she's being attacked..."

Freddie took a seat next to him. "Hey. We're on our way there, and there's no chance that we're going to let anything happen to your wife. You know that."

"I-"

Freddie had never seen Brian this distraught before; even in their most heated arguments he always seemed to have an air of composure and confidence. Now, he looked about to burst into tears. John gently rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Brian... I'm sure she'll be all right. We've handled things that looked impossible before. Right now, however, you're one of the closest friends I have and I can't bear to see you this upset. That is, obviously you have every reason to be upset, and if my family was attacked I'd probably be just as much of a mess. But we don't know anything for sure yet, and we've never failed at anything really important so far. So, well... Oh, you know what? I'll skip talking and get to the end already."

He broke off to hug Brian warmly, joined moments later by Roger and Freddie. Despite his anxiety and shock, Brian could not help but be ever so slightly comforted by the love and attention of his friends. A few minutes later, they arrived in front of his house. The group was rushing out almost before the car stopped, horrified by the scene that met their eyes.


	4. Chapter 3: I'm So Sad Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long, and dark. The story’s world will never be the same again (or will it- oops. no spoilers.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some very dark stuff. Passing mention of suicidal thoughts.

The front yard was devastated, the door smashed in and everything in general disarray. There was no sign of any attacker, and no sound or movement from within the house. With a gasp of terror, Brian ran inside closely followed by the others.

The interior was similarly destroyed, furniture broken and the very walls knocked down in places. The telephone had been thrown to the floor, cable snapped from its rest. But it was in the kitchen that Brian dropped to his knees in shock, not even trying to fight back the tears flooding his sight.

Under the table, clutching a vegetable knife in what must have been a last-ditch attempt at self-defence, was the disfigured body of a woman. What part of his brain was still functioning recognised the injuries typical of the robots' attack, as if there had been any doubt as to the killer. Thoughts crowded his mind:

_She's dead. Chrissie. My wife. They murdered her. I couldn't stop them. I couldn't..._

"Oh, my..." Roger's gasp came from behind him. "Brian, I'm so..."

"Of course you are. You can't figure what you're supposed to feel or say, so you default to what you're taught is the right reaction. Not that I can blame you, of course-"

"No," Roger broke in firmly. "I...I can't pretend to understand what this must be to you, and honestly I hope I never have to. But I do, in complete honesty, feel every sympathy I can. If there's anything any of us can do to make this... Well, I don't think I can say easier. But I can try to be there, to help you cope."

Brian hardly noticed the words, his own thoughts threatening to suffocate him. It had to have been his fault, somehow. This couldn't just have... happened. And he wouldn't be able to 'cope'. Not the way he needed to. No, he was a public figure after all. The media would find out. The tabloids, the gossip columns... Dredging everything up over and over again, not giving space to recover or to process. But then, why should any of them care? It was only his life they were breaking, a life that had not belonged to him for years by then. 

Not since 'Sheer Heart Attack' had first exploded onto the charts, and maybe even before - from the moment the rumour-mongers and profiteers of the world had realised that here was someone in whose private affairs the public would take an interest. The price of fame, perhaps. But it hardly seemed a fair one to pay.

The others must have arrived by now, must have seen the consequences of their failure. But they remained silent, perhaps realising that there was no way for them to help. Freddie knelt down gently, waiting for Brian to allow him into his mind. Eventually, he looked up.

"In the battle back there, I almost died and you saved my life. I was thankful then, but now I almost wish-"

"Don't say that." Freddie shifted his position, meeting Brian's eyes with his powerful gaze, the one that made it clear his whole attention was focused on its subject. "However dark the world might be at the moment, it'll always be that much more beautiful with you in it. For all of us."  
"Of course you'd say that. You're not thinking logically about it. If she hadn't met me, she'd be alive now. If I'd realised what was going on, I could have taken her into hiding. This could all have been prevented, but I didn't have the intelligence to see it coming."

"You, not intelligent?" Roger asked rhetorically. "I don't think any of us could have seen this coming." As a matter of fact, he realised, if any of them could have done so it would have been him; it was now all too obvious what that earlier feeling of apprehension had meant. However, the important thing was to comfort Brian, not complicate the situation further. He continued.

"Look. You couldn't prevent what happened here, none of us could. But you can prevent it from happening to other people, because your unique gifts put you in a position to do so. You can learn who's behind this and stop them from doing something like it again, and every one of us will be there to back you up."

Brian seemed unconvinced, but made no further protest. He rose heavily, walking slowly towards the door. After the initial shock had gone, he was seized with a desire to leave the ill-omened house and breathe fresher air. If he could only think clearly for a moment...

"Get your families somewhere safe," he managed to say. "We can't waste time... I can't have more deaths on my conscience..."

"It doesn't need to be on your conscience," John said quietly. "You've done nothing wrong. Still, you're right. I'll get in touch with Veronica immediately. Let's get back to the car, all right?"  
They did so, and John phoned his wife to inform her of the developments.

"They killed- Oh my, Brian, I'm so sorry- I guess I'd better get ready. When will you come to get us?"

"We're on our way now," John answered. As they approached his house, he turned to Freddie.

"Mary... does she know?"

"I haven't told her," he admitted. "Honestly, I don't know if I can. Obviously, I'd have to with this plan, but somehow..."

"You don't trust her?"

"No, it's not that. I trust her more than almost anyone I've ever known- you three, of course, being part of the exception. But there's recently been something... I don't think I can explain. Something's changed between us."

"Something that means you don't feel comfortable telling her the greatest secret of your life?" John asked in concern. "That sounds pretty serious."

"I don't know. Part of it, I imagine, is that after keeping it for so long I'm scared of how she'll react. I don't think that's all, though. I wish I knew what else it was."

"I'm hesitant to say this, but... If the situation's like that, maybe..."

"You think I should break up with her?" Freddie had to admit that the idea had a certain relief in it.

"Again, I'm hesitant to say anything of that sort. I think you should do whatever feels like the right choice for you. This will probably sound very cliche, but I like you and I want you to be happy. Whether that means breaking up, or changing your relationship, or... anything you can imagine basically. Except for becoming an evil cult leader, which I unfortunately can't really condone. But I'm afraid you'll have to make a decision."

"I know." Freddie said quietly. "I just wish it was easier to know if I'm making the right one."

"I think you know better than you think you do," John said earnestly. "You're a good person, Fred. And whatever you decide to do, whatever the final consequences of that decision, I don't think any of us will doubt for a moment that you acted with the best possible intentions."

"And if the best possible intentions aren't enough? No doubt, from some twisted perspective, our enemies also think they have the best intentions. But thinking isn't enough, not when the consequences are this serious. And we've seen today just how serious they can be..."

They reached John's house in a somber mood. Veronica and the infant Robert waited outside, a bulging, hastily-packed suitcase on the ground next to them. As John ran to embrace them and help them into the car, Roger replaced the carphone on its hook violently.

"Clare's not answering!"

"Maybe she's just not home-" Brian began, but knew that it hardly sounded convincing in their situation.

"I'll take you to check on her," Freddie said quickly. "Brian, John, continue here."

Holding Roger firmly, he shot off into the sky. Veronica gazed after them in amusement.

"Is it like that all the time for you?"

"Hectic and terrifying? Pretty much," John admitted. "Today a lot more so than usual, however."

"Oh, yes... Of course. I'm still in shock over that. I thought they might try something of the sort eventually, but I never expected-"

"Of course you didn't. None of us did. And I'm shocked by it just as much as you are. Still, if it's possible to be thankful for anything in this crazy situation, I'm thankful that you're safe and that our son's safe. Because if anything had happened to either of you... Well, you probably know how I'd react."

Brian was silent, his thoughts haunting him again at the sight of John's family. If only they'd been sooner, he could have had a family in the near future. A son, or a daughter, or perhaps both, who would make him smile every day and give him a reason to continue fighting. And now, all that seemed impossible. Not only his present happiness had been lost, but apparently all hope of a future. John's gentle, hesitant voice called him back towards the present.

"Should we go to your parents next? It's likely they'll target the rest of your family too."

The reminder hurt, although he knew John hadn't intended to do so. He managed a brief nod, and John handled the call and set their next destination. Brian's parents were also unaware of his other career, and John was probably not the best person to break it to them, but there was no time now for long conversations and choosing the moment. He could only hope that the result would not be too difficult.

They continued on their route, taking their families and close friends to the safe house that none of them had ever thought they'd have to use. The atmosphere only became more tense. John and Veronica took charge of the diplomatic side, as Brian was still hardly in any condition to negotiate the situation. One of the hardest moments was the explanation to Roger's mother that no, they didn't know if her daughter was safe, and that her son was off somewhere hopefully protecting her. John could only hope that Roger and Freddie would return with good news.

* * *

Roger and Freddie, luckily, had not been too late. While there was indeed an attack, it was clear that the organiser had not expected resistance - only one of the robots was there, and it seemed to be an early model. The battle was soon over, and they could return to their main task. 

Unfortunately, there was one thing they had not accounted for in their rush; while it had been possible, if difficult, for Freddie to fly Roger along to the rescue, he couldn't carry two people. Either one or all of them would have to take a longer route to the rendezvous.

Roger considered for a moment before speaking quickly and firmly.

"Take her to the others. I'll catch you up, okay?"

"And leave you alone-" Freddie began, but was quickly cut off.

"I'll be fine. I'm the amazing Carman, remember? And besides, we just dealt with something. It's hardly likely another attack on the same area will come so soon after it."

The last part was, in fact, a lie. Roger's enhanced vision showed him an attack force approaching as they spoke - which was why he was determined to get Clare away from danger. He could hardly count on persuading either of the others to leave if they knew, and if he was not entirely confident of being able to deal with the threat single-handed, his chances were at least existent. Freddie looked skeptical, but reluctantly prepared to leave. Clare paused before joining him, looking earnestly at her brother.

"If you somehow end up getting yourself killed on the way to meet us, I'll be very annoyed, you know."

"Right. Of course." Roger couldn't help being somewhat distracted in his answer, but neither seemed to notice it. He watched their departure with a distinct sense of relief, and started preparing for battle the moment they were out of sight.

Not a moment too soon, it turned out; a group of robots was already approaching. Roger engaged them with furious alacrity, taking one down before he ran out of ammunition and dropped the weapon in frustration. _Of course_ he'd forgotten to restock in the chaos. He tensed his mechanically enhanced arms - this battle was going to require more... low-tech methods.

* * *

John's relief on seeing Freddie return with Clare in apparent safety was tempered by the realisation that Roger wasn't with them.

"Where-" he began, but Freddie was already answering.

"He's taking the longer route. We thought it would be best to get her to safety as soon as possible."

"Good to know," John said earnestly. "You had me worried for a moment there."

"Only a moment?" Freddie teased, and for a time the assembled group managed to forget the tense situation in banter and relaxation. Roger's non-appearance, however, was becoming worrying.

The conversation stopped when the phone rang suddenly. "Where? Oh, that idio- We're coming!"

He hung up and turned breathlessly to John and Brian, speaking with strong emotion but a low tone to prevent the others hearing.

"There's a incident not far from the place I just left. Apparently Roger's taking it on alone. There are reports - not that I believe them, of course, but people are saying - most of the media channels - they're claiming -" He paused, having obvious difficulty completing the thought. "They're saying he's dead."

"No..." Brian's voice trembled with emotion. "Not him as well, I can't-"

"None of us can," John answered in a tone that tried to be reassuring but showed his own fear only too strongly. "Come on. We're going to help."

* * *

Roger was losing, and he knew it. These opponents were stronger than any he'd faced before, and without the others to back him up the situation was almost hopeless. He'd managed to take another of the things out of commission, but was tiring quickly and no help seemed to be coming. A crowd of spectators had assembled, seeming to take a twisted delight in the battle as though unaware that a man was risking his life for their safety.

 _Like some bloody Colosseum_ , he thought with what little concentration he could spare, _wanting the thrill and the drama without realising that it's not television... Are these really the people I'm probably going to die for?_

Not that he really had a choice, it seemed. If this attack wasn't brought under control, he knew that many more people would be endangered. However, it appeared increasingly likely that he would not be the one to accomplish that.

A blow he was too late to dodge struck him to the ground, and as he tried to retaliate the robot's metal foot sent him across the pavement, automatically curling into a defensive position. He closed his eyes, less from an attempt at protection than an instinctive, almost childlike reluctance to see the damage inflicted. He was lucky, he supposed - that kind of blunt trauma could easily have snapped his neck. He made a mental note to get a uniform with better upper-body protection if he survived, but had no time to linger on the thought, as it was all he could do to stay alive.

Judging from the type of injury and the sensations screaming at his mind, he'd sustained at least one broken rib at the zone of impact. Internal bleeding was also a worrying possibility, but he didn't have the time, knowledge, or concentration to spare for a full self-diagnosis. _So much for glorious death in battle, then._ He probably couldn't sit without causing more damage and incapacitating pain, let alone fight with any efficiency. His thinking was hardly organised at the best of times, but now the mental effort of remaining conscious and lucid felt almost as great as any physical effort he could have made.

He stopped resisting, hoping that the robots would think - or whatever their equivalent was - that the fight was over. If they weren't taken in, the watchers were. Not that they really mattered at this stage, although he wasn't entirely without regret for being unable to save them.  
"Is he dead?" Someone 'whispered' loudly with an unsettling degree of excitement.

"I don't- oh my, I think he's dead!" A female voice gasped. _Well_ , a bitter thought flashed through the fog settling over his mind, _you're not far off. Thanks for all the concern._

He realised that the tone of the spectators had changed, sporadic cheers replacing the gasps and whispering. The unmistakable sound of a very well-known engine came nearer, and he wasn't alone.

* * *

The hiss of Brian's hand device was hardly audible in the general confusion, but his voice, almost unrecognisable with anger, reached Roger even through the agony and noise.

"Get away from him, you metal murderer! You're not going to hurt anyone else I care about!"

A firm but gentle hand closed on Roger's arm. He felt the bruises slowly fading, the internal injuries closing. John's worried voice followed shortly after, quiet but immeasurably good to hear in the circumstances.

"Hey. Can you hear me? I've got you, and you're going to be okay. Just relax, all right?"

Roger couldn't find the energy to respond, but managed a tense smile. John's grip strengthened, and so did the healing impulses he was sending. He continued speaking, trying to calm them both.

"It's good we got here in time, Rog. Your car's been worried sick."

Roger chuckled at that, but stopped abruptly. "Ow..."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I forgot-" Roger opened his eyes to see John sitting by him in what he recognised as concentration on healing him. In the background, Brian and Freddie dealt with the remaining robots. With the pain lessening and his thoughts beginning to clear, a sudden and worrying memory returned. Just how serious had the injuries been?

"Stop... you'll hurt yourself..." He gasped, making a weak attempt at pulling away. John, however, continued to hold on, gently pulling him closer.

"It's fine, I can handle it. Not that it would be different if I couldn't, as I'm sure you know. If we ever did reach a situation where I had to give my life for you... Well, that wouldn't even be a choice."

"No." Roger contested firmly. "You've got a family. You've got a son. People need you, and I can't say the same for myself."

"On the contrary. I already have all that. Of course I don't want to lose it, and I'd like to have more children. But that's still in your future. And I want you to have a chance at it too, whatever ends up happening to me. I'm sure you'll be a great father someday."  
"I don't-"

Freddie walked over to join them. "Here's an idea. Neither of you die for any reason, and you go on to have at least five children each. Sound good?"

John thought for a moment. "Make it six, and you've got a deal."

"You drive a hard bargain, Deacy."

"I know."

Roger stood up gingerly, the traces of his ordeal not entirely gone. Brian ran over, rather awkwardly going in for a hug.

"You scared me. What on earth were you thinking, going up against that kind of force alone?"  
"What makes you assume I _was_ thinking?"

"You may have a point," Brian admitted, and Roger was surprised to realise that he was crying. Then again, he thought, perhaps it should not have been surprising after the day's events. What they'd been through could easily have killed every one of them, not to mention the people they loved. And whoever the sinister 'Frank' was, it seemed that he was just getting started. They returned to the car and headed back to the newly inhabited safe house, in a dark mood despite the successful rescue.

* * *

The atmosphere in the safe house was an odd mixture of activity and quiet, as the various inhabitants tried to get used to the new conditions. Freddie was busily engaged in trying to deter Roger from flirting with his sister, while John finished settling his family in and found himself near Brian in one of the few quiet corners. Brian glanced up at his approach.

"This is wrong," he said as though speaking to himself.

"I know. And we're going to make sure that the man who did it is stopped. You know that."

"That's not what I meant. It feels... wrong. Everything that happened today shouldn't have happened. It's like something's gone wrong with time."

"Time travel?" John asked sceptically. "You of all people should know there's hardly any evidence of that being possible, let alone having taken place. I know today's events feel like a nightmare, and you're probably searching for any possible way to rationalise it or tell yourself there's a way to go back. If there was a way, I'd be taking it now and not having this conversation. I'm sorry, and I know that you've been the most... affected of us by this. I wish I could make this easier for you, do something to make it so you wouldn't have to go through this. At the moment, however, it feels like the only way I can help is this."

Following the words by an action, he drew Brian into a hug. The latter made no attempt to protest, but seemed unresponsive to the display of affection. His thoughts were too preoccupied with the feeling he'd told John about, the incredibly strong intuition that every one of the day's occurrences could and should have been prevented - and that maybe it wasn't too late.

Time travel... The idea did seem implausible, and perhaps he was wrong about the details. But the feeling of _wrongness_ was far too strong to be passed off as simple grief or denial... unless that, too, was just his mind trying desperately to cope by any means possible. None of the others seemed to share the thought, after all, and the rational part of his brain told him that entertaining the idea would only make him feel worse when it was inevitably disproven.

As the day wore on, however, his conviction only strengthened.


End file.
